Letters
by RAINBOWS AND MACHINE GUNS
Summary: Seeing you die for the fifth time, it broke me. I just couldn't shake the feeling of regret and shame I felt because I never told you, no matter who I had sex with, and no matter how many times I got drunk. So, if you show up alive again, I promise, I will finally send you your letters. (Slow Burn Destiel)
1. Prologue

**It's short, I know, but I'm hoping to make this longer. So far this is just something I wrote in five minutes because I was bored, so if it doesn't continue, it's because I have commitment issues.**

A journal. A small, leather-bound journal sits on the wooden desk in front of him, just sitting there. It had been there on the desk when he entered, the only thing not covered in dust in the room. He walked across the room from his position on the bed, wary of the unfamiliar book, before deciding it was safe and slowly picking it up from the desk. The leather was split and torn, the pages worn from constant use. Sitting back on the bed, he opened it slowly, unsure how stable the binding was. After all, the journal did seem old. A small note fell from the pages and into his lap. Confused, he unfolded the small piece of paper and began to read.

 _People have told me that when you meet your soulmate, you can feel it. Like a sudden moment of realization, an explosion of love, a single second where nobody in the world matters as much as they do in that moment. Some people have described it as being the most important moment in your life, but to be honest, I don't really care._

 _I've never had that moment of realization, that spark of recognition, so I've never thought it necessary to make it the most important moment in my life. But I know who my soulmate is. Known him for years actually, many pain-filled, long years._

 _We met eight years ago, at a gas station in the middle of literally nowhere. I think he tried to talk to me, but I couldn't hear him. I remember stealing a shitty car, a vintage looking white one that nobody cared about. I remember talking to him again, but this time I did listen. He was like an angel, showing up and being all sexy. Let me tell you, that was not my first thought. I was, to be honest, very intimidated._

 _I went through heaven and hell to be with him, yet I couldn't find the courage to tell him how I felt. So instead, I started writing letters. Letters addressed to him. Despite knowing I'd never have enough courage to send him the letters, I wrote them anyway and collected them in a little brown book, saving them for a reason unknown to even myself._

 _So Castiel, if you're actually reading this, these are my letters to you._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Dean Winchester_


	2. Bead Curtains

**I am probably going to end up abandoning this, but it's fun while it lasts. Anyway, this letter was "written" halfway through season 5, episode 4. So... On with it!**

 **Edit: The strikethrough lines weren't showing up, so anything underlined means Dean wrote it, then crossed it out.**

 _August 4th, 2009 2014_

 _Cas,_

 _One of the douches in the sky dropped me five years in the future, and everything is fucked up. You don't have any mojo, are having orgies and doing drugs. I'm an asshole, Sam's missing and post-apocalyptic zombies are roaming the earth. I swear, this is like that time I got a concussion after a ghost hunt in Nevada, and I kept mistaking Sam for a girl. That was a really trippy week, everything was backwards or spinning. Anyway, back on topic, the Croatoan Virus. Extremely dangerous. What I got from myself (That is so weird to write) is that it is a demonic virus that was created by the devil or something? I don't really know, I was panicky after finding out Sam was missing. Back to an earlier topic, dude,_ future _you_ is _literally a hippy. You had a fucking bead curtain. And a harem of hot chicks. Like what the actual fuck. No. It was kind of awesome Why wasn't I participating?_

Apparently _future me was supplying other you with drugs? I have no idea why, but they definitely had a deal or exchange or something. They kept looking at each other too, but they weren't like, glaring. They were just kind of staring at each other. Do we do that? Sam is always bitchy about that kind of thing. Is it the profound bond?_

 _Makes me feel kind of lonely_

 _I wish you were_

 _We're doing some kind of raid tomorrow, on a building where Lucifer is suspected to be. If you were here, we could really use you. But you're not, so wish me luck. If you even get this._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Dean Winchester_

Castiel could feel his eyes widening as he read the short letter, as he never really asked the details of Dean's time in the alternate future. He was confused as to why Dean kept crossing out sentences, instead of just writing what he wished to say. He flipped through the pages of the journal, surprised at the number of words on each page, and how they seemed to generally grow in length throughout the pages. Slightly unsettled, he closed the journal and placed it on the side table next to the bed. He laid on the bed, eyes closed. His last thought as he drifted to sleep was that he should probably read them all before talking to Dean.


End file.
